The world finally seemed to love Ava Monroe.
Her exhibition at The Whitestone Collective had gone global, picked up by international galleries and art journals. Invitations poured in — New York, Paris, Milan. Her inbox became a blur of opportunity, each email more dazzling than the last.
But amid the glitter of recognition, she felt a quiet unease.
The more her world expanded, the less time she spent with Sebastian.
Days turned into weeks of quick texts, missed dinners, and half-finished conversations. He was consumed by rebuilding ValeTech; she was swept into the tide of her rising fame. And somewhere between their ambitions, silence began to grow.
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One chilly October afternoon, Ava sat in her studio staring at a contract.
It was from The Musée D'Art Contemporain de Paris — an offer to be their artist-in-residence for six months.
Her dream. Her impossible dream.
She traced the signature line with her thumb. Six months in Paris meant six months away from Sebastian.
Her phone buzzed.
Sebastian: "Dinner tonight? I'll actually make it this time."
Ava: "You sure you're not glued to your boardroom again?"
Sebastian: "I'll make sure they survive without me for one evening."
She smiled faintly, but her heart twisted. She didn't want to tell him about Paris over text. Not like this.
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That evening, his penthouse was bathed in soft amber light, the skyline glowing beyond the windows. He'd cooked — or at least attempted to. The scent of slightly burned pasta filled the air.
"You're lucky you're good at tech," she teased, setting her bag down.
He chuckled, pulling her close. "I was going for romantic, not Michelin."
She leaned into him, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne — grounding, warm. "You succeeded in both."
They ate at the dining table overlooking the Thames. For a while, it felt easy again — laughter, wine, comfort. Then Ava's gaze drifted to her bag, where the contract sat like a secret.
"I got an offer today," she said finally.
Sebastian set down his glass. "For another show?"
She shook her head. "For Paris. Six months. Artist-in-residence at the Musée D'Art."
He froze. "Six months?"
Ava nodded. "It's… it's everything I ever wanted, Sebastian. Exposure, prestige, a real seat in the international art world."
He leaned back, silent. The air between them thickened.
"I haven't said yes," she added quickly.
"But you want to."
"I do," she admitted softly. "But I also want us."
Sebastian looked at her for a long moment, eyes shadowed. "And you think we'll survive six months apart?"
"I think we've survived worse," she said.
He smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You've always been the brave one."
"That's not bravery," she whispered. "It's fear — fear of looking back and wondering what I could've been if I hadn't tried."
He nodded slowly, his voice rough. "I understand that better than you think."
She reached across the table, fingers brushing his hand. "Then say it's okay. Say you'll be here when I come back."
Sebastian hesitated, torn between love and control. "I'll try," he said at last. "But I don't know what six months looks like anymore."
Her chest tightened. "Then maybe we find out."
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The following weeks were filled with preparation — contracts, travel arrangements, press interviews. Ava threw herself into it, but every success felt bittersweet.
Sebastian buried himself in ValeTech's resurgence. New projects, new investors, new pressures. But every time he turned from his office window, the absence beside him felt louder.
Maya noticed it too.
"You've been quieter," she said one evening as they wrapped up a late meeting.
"I'm fine," he replied automatically.
"Are you?" she asked gently. "Because from where I stand, it looks like you're letting her go without ever saying how much that scares you."
Sebastian's jaw tightened. "She deserves the world, Maya. I can't ask her to stay just because I'm afraid."
Maya smiled sadly. "That's love, I suppose. Letting go even when it hurts like hell."
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Two days before Ava's flight, she visited ValeTech.
It felt strange to walk through those glass doors again — the place where their story had begun. Employees greeted her warmly, a few even stopping to thank her for inspiring the company's new creative initiative.
When she reached Sebastian's office, he was standing by the window, phone pressed to his ear. He ended the call the moment he saw her.
"You came," he said quietly.
"I wanted to see you before I go."
He nodded, crossing the room to her. The city stretched behind him — vast, endless.
"I'm proud of you," he said. "You're about to conquer Paris."
"I'll only conquer it if I know you'll still be here when I get back."
He hesitated, then smiled faintly. "I'll always be here, Ava. Even if not right here."
She stepped closer, her voice trembling. "Promise me something."
"Anything."
"Don't disappear into ValeTech again. Promise you'll still live."
He exhaled, brushing his thumb over her lips. "Only if you promise to keep painting us into your skies."
She laughed softly, tears glinting in her eyes. "Always."
They kissed — slow, lingering, filled with everything words couldn't say.
When they parted, she whispered, "Goodbye for now."
He corrected gently, "Never goodbye. Just distance."
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The day Ava left, London was shrouded in silver mist. Sebastian stood at the airport window long after her plane disappeared from view.
He told himself it was only six months — that love like theirs could survive oceans.
But as he watched the horizon fade, he couldn't shake the feeling that something unseen had shifted.
And back in London, in a corner of the boardroom he'd once ruled with certainty, a shadow was stirring — Hargreaves, quietly reclaiming influence while Sebastian's focus drifted elsewhere.
Love had rebuilt them.
Ambition might just unravel them again.
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